


about the blood in your mouth

by lovker



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blood, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Richard Siken poetry, SVT boys ensemble, Survivor’s Guilt, Vampire Jeonghan, background soonwoo - Freeform, emotional blood drinking, exasperated humans, implied past near-death experience, vampwere seungcheol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovker/pseuds/lovker
Summary: The same bite means different things to the two of them.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88
Collections: Spooky Swap





	about the blood in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> title and quoted lines from "little beast" by richard siken.
> 
> song: [the last shadow puppets - my mistakes were made for you](https://youtu.be/9cQloro92xA)

It’s been—how long?

Jeonghan can’t quite remember the exact day, only that it’s about time he brings food to Seungcheol again.

He steps out of the elevator and traces familiar steps to the door. The sun is making his skin itch, and he can’t wait to get into the apartment as he knocks and waits.

The beep of the digital lock warns him before the door swings open. Jeonghan looks up from his sneakers on the doormat.

Seungcheol looks paler than last time, if at all possible. Jeonghan steps past the threshold without saying or hearing a word, no longer worried about overstaying his welcome. He heads straight for the fridge, filled with nothing but blood bags organised by expiry date.

Soundlessly, Seungcheol has made his way near, leaning against the doorframe. He makes it look casual, like he’s not leaning against it to keep himself upright.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” Seungcheol says.

Jeonghan pretends not to have heard him, keeps his head stuck in the fridge with fifty odd bags of blood.

There’s only so much he can organise and re-organise when he already did a good job at it the past few visits. As he shuts the fridge, he’s faced with Seungcheol, still standing at the doorway, who seemingly will continue to do so if he doesn’t get a response from Jeonghan.

 _I kind of do,_ Jeonghan wants to say.

He ends up saying with a smile, “It’s no bother, really.” When Seungcheol frowns, he adds, “Just wanna make sure.”

_**so it’s summer, so it’s suicide,** _

**_so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool._ **

If someone were to trace backwards, they’d find that the bags of blood were from the hospital Jeonghan works at. He left with them at the end of his shift.

If they traced further backwards, they’d find that it wasn’t the first time Jeonghan took from the blood bank. Beings like him need alternative ways of feeding when they coexist with humans, and blood that can’t be used for transfusion is one of them.

If they traced even further backwards, they’d find Jeonghan taking twice the normal amount since—yeah, since not that long ago.

That’s far from the only thing different, though. Jeonghan’s not so self absorbed to think he single-handedly brought about all the changes in Seungcheol’s life.

By the door, bottles of SPF 110+++ sunblock line the top of the shoe cabinet, courtesy to Seungkwan. The windows, previously lined with cream-coloured drapes, are now covered with blackout curtains from Seokmin’s theatre.

The electric blanket on the sofa is a gift from the vampires in their group. (Jeonghan chipped in.) The buckets of protein powder, though, come from the werewolves.

The fridge no longer stores food Seungcheol likes. Sometimes Jihoon stays over and brings along his 10 kg packet of rice, sometimes Mingyu fills the fridge with his own weight in steak.

Then Seungcheol begins to have problems with his fangs whenever there’s a full moon, resulting in them digging into his lower lip. Soonyoung, the only one who has experience with braces, brings him to the orthodontist.

A lot has changed since—yeah. Jeonghan doesn’t think he would’ve been able to cope without his friends’ help.

(Yes, he thinks the werewolves are way too loud and energetic. Yes, Chan still overestimates his appetite, after five years of knowing him.

“I can’t believe you’re able to work in the human sector of the hospital, hyung,” Chan says, sipping on non-blood. It looks like an iced americano. “Like it’s no biggie.”

“I don’t really feed on humans,” Jeonghan says, sipping on his lunch disguised in a juice box. “I guess it’s a bit like working in the food industry of a food that you don’t eat.”)

Come to think of it, friends like them are hard to come by. There’s that age-old rivalry that smells like sweaty feet between vampires and werewolves, then there’s that whole vampire-preying-on-humans thing that more often than not comes up when accidents happen.

He less than deserves them, for what he has done to Seungcheol. For that, he’s willing to pay back with his whole life, figuratively or literally.

Wonwoo opens the door with a lint roller in his hand. He winces at the sun that rises earlier and earlier with each day they move closer to summer.

Jeonghan steps past the doormat and takes off his shoes. Meanwhile, Wonwoo goes back to lint-rolling the pile of laundry laid out on the sofa.

“Has he shifted back?” Jeonghan asks. He takes a T-shirt that’s free of silver hair and folds it.

“Just this morning,” Wonwoo says, repeatedly going over the neckline of another T-shirt. He squints at the ripped edges of the sleeves and mutters, “Maybe I should throw this away?”

It’s a white tee with a tiger printed on the back.

There comes a voice from the depths of the apartment, “I’ll kill you, Jeon Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo barely reacts at all.

“Was he wearing this?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the poor state of it. At this point, it’s more rip than cloth.

“Right when he shifted,” Wonwoo says. He ends up folding it and stacks it on top of the other shirts. After they go through the whole pile of laundry, he stands up and makes his way to the bedroom. “Hey, come out. Hyung is here.”

“My tail is still out!”

“So?” Wonwoo leans against the doorframe. “We’ve all seen it anyway.”

“It’s shedding!”

“We’ll just vacuum the whole apartment all over again next week.” Wonwoo reaches into the room. “Come on.”

Soonyoung ends up being coaxed out with a hand on his back. He cracks a sheepish smile when he sees Jeonghan.

“Hey hyung,” he says, plopping down next to the neat stack of clothes on the sofa.

“Hey tiger,” Jeonghan says, and Soonyoung beams, much to Wonwoo’s chagrin. There’s some serious reconciliation that needs to be done on Soonyoung’s end, between his self-perception and who he actually is. Meanwhile, Jeonghan can be a good hyung and make his dongsaeng happy. “How was it?”

“It was good,” Soonyoung begins.

“It was not,” Wonwoo interjects.

“Met up with Hansol and Shua-hyung,” Soonyoung continues. He heads to the kitchen and mixes a protein shake. “We went for a run in the national park. The weather was _so_ good.”

“He came back at five in the morning, covered in sprigs and mud,” Wonwoo adds.

“Those were flowers for you,” Soonyoung reasons.

Wonwoo is clearly tired. He yawns, jaw clicking. “I’m going to sleep.” On his way to the bedroom, he stops by Jeonghan. There’s no way Soonyoung can’t hear him, but he still asks quietly, “You’ll go visit today?”

Jeonghan smiles, a trained response. “No,” he says, voice stable as a flatline. He has no heartbeat, so he has no reason to feel his heart lodged in his throat. “Maybe tomorrow.”

When Jeonghan was a bit more naïve, seeing Wonwoo and Soonyoung together sparked something akin to hope in him: if they could work, then Jeonghan’s daydream didn’t seem that far fetched at all.

Then again, _that_ happened, and Jeonghan is at Seungcheol’s doorstep now, two days after the most recent full moon.

Jeonghan studied science. He’s not a poet.

As the sun beats down on the world outside and makes Jeonghan’s skin irritated to the point of red, he sees Seungcheol’s pallor and thinks of the moon on a cloudless night.

Wordlessly, Jeonghan lifts the cooler box in his hand, pulling himself back to reality—the reality of Seungcheol belonging to the earth, bound by the need to drink blood for as long as he lives.

“Have you eaten?” Seungcheol asks while Jeonghan moves the blood bags to the fridge.

“I’ll just eat when I get home,” Jeonghan says.

“You should have something in you.” He gets ignored. “Jeonghan.”

“Those are for you,” Jeonghan sighs. The fridge begins to beep, so he shuts it.

“You can have one,” Seungcheol says, opening the fridge door again. He takes two bags of blood, holding one out, like a peace offering. “And really, the sun’s too strong outside. You should stay until it eases up a little.”

Once upon a time, Seungcheol would take any chance to go out in the sun. Jeonghan, being born the way he is, would watch from the shade, lathered in SPF 110 +++ sunblock.

What’s different now is all his doing.

Jeonghan takes the bag from Seungcheol and can’t help but notice the coldness of it as their hands brush.

He will dream of it, in the nightmarish sense.

_**but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless,** _

**_and he was running out of lullabies._ **

Once upon a time, Jeonghan dreamt about Seungcheol in a way he didn’t dread. Instead of the stillness of his heart, he would hear the drumming through his chest, strong and steady, and the blood would bring warmth even to the end of his fingers, searing a path down Jeonghan’s body.

Now, seeing Seungcheol in his dream means blood, blood, and blood; running to places it doesn’t belong—between the fissures in rocks, under dead leaves, into the soil.

Jeonghan jolts awake covered in cold sweat.

He breathes up at the ceiling, feeling vaguely this is when humans would try to calm their hammering heart. What he has, though, is a sinking weight beneath his sternum and an urge to hurl, so he does.

His phone buzzes by the sink when he rinses his mouth out, feeling like whatever self care he did before going to bed has become undone.

The notifications are all from Soonyoung in their group chat. Jeonghan swipes a shaking thumb across the screen and takes in the messages:

**From: Rawr 🐯  
**>> cheollie-hyung got his braces removed today!!!!  
>> we’re gonna get ice cream now  
>> in small amounts!! don’t worry, my nocturnal pals!!!  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> look at hyung’s smile!!!!!!!!  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]  
>> [image attached]

Jeonghan stares at the photos, at his friends’ faces, at the smile he hasn’t seen on Seungcheol for a long, long time. Before another bout of bile fluxes upwards, a few more messages pop up.

**From: Wonwoo  
**>> have you forgotten how to take a video?  
>> swipe right after you open the camera

**From: Rawr 🐯  
**>> thank you  
>> sorry guys  
>> new phone  
>> [video attached]

It’s another two weeks before he realises what’s wrong.

There’s a bottle of iron supplements on the kitchen counter.

“Seungcheol,” he calls out. As soon as it leaves his mouth, he notices how long he has gone without saying his name.

No reply. He takes it, nearly empty, rattling with far apart clicks in the hollow plastic. He turns it over and reads off the label: prescribed two months ago.

With impeccable timing, Seungcheol walks in.

Jeonghan looks up, just in time to see Seungcheol’s eyes go wide, flitting between the bottle and anywhere but Jeonghan’s face.

He would’ve asked something like: is this yours? Since when? What’s wrong?

Except he knows the answer to all of those, and years spent working as a nurse catches up to him, and he spits out, “Have you been passing blood?”

“What?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows raise past his loose bangs, soft looking after a shower.

Jeonghan emphasises his point by shaking the pill bottle. Seungcheol’s ears twitch.

“Iron supplements. You’re anaemic.” Jeonghan watches Seungcheol’s face. He puts down the bottle and crosses his arms. “Have you been losing blood?”

“No,” Seungcheol says. He takes the pill bottle and begins fiddling with the sticker label, starting from the corner. “No. I mean, they asked me all kinds of questions about—passing blood and stuff, too, but they said it was common for those like me to develop anaemia.”

“Those like you?” Jeonghan echoes. “It’s not common for vampires to have anaemia if they have enough blood products. You take three bags per day.”

Seungcheol looks away.

“Werewolves?” Seungcheol still wouldn’t look at him. Jeonghan breathes out through his nose and has to look away. He stares at the whiteboard hanging from the fridge door handle, keeping track of how many bags of blood there’s left. Then he turns back and asks, “What, Seungcheol?”

“Both,” Seungcheol answers finally. He ducks his head, like he can’t bear to see Jeonghan, or to be seen. “For those who are both.”

** PointOfCare—Mobile App **

**Iron deficiency anaemia: causes, diagnosis, and treatment in adult werewolves**

**Summary** ▷

 **Epidemiology** ▷

 **Causes** ▷

 **Risk Factors** ▷

 **Blood loss** ▷

 **Reduced iron absorption** ▷

 **Redistrubition after erythropoietin/erythropoiesis-stimulating agents** ▷

 **Urinary/pulmonary hemosiderosis** ▷

 **Inherited disorders/IRIDA** ▷

 **High demand individuals** ▼

> Athletes—Athletes have been reported to have anaemia from a number of causes [65-74]:
> 
>   * Dilutional anaemia from increased plasma volume
>   * Exercise induced acute phase response with production of inflammatory cytokines
>   * Gastrointestinal bleeding and iron deficiency
>   * Intravascular haemolysis from “march” haemoglobinuria
> 

> 
> Individuals of mixed biology [75-77]:
> 
>   * Case studies on individuals with vampire and werewolf descent have reported a higher rate of iron deficiency anaemia, which can be attributed to physical transformations that occur every lunar cycle
> 


**Stages of iron deficiency** ▷

 **Clinical manifestations** ▼

> **Symptoms of anemia** ▼
> 
>   * Fatigue
>   * Restless legs syndrome
>   * Headache
>   * Exercise intolerance
>   * Exertional dyspnea
>   * Weakness
> 

> 
> **Pica and ice craving** ▷
> 
>  **Other findings** ▷
> 
>  **Findings on examination** ▷
> 
>  **Findings on CBC** ▷

 **Diagnosis** ▷

**Principles of Management ▼**

> **Indications for treatment** ▷
> 
>  **Iron replacement products** ▷
> 
>  **Response to iron supplementation** ▼
> 
>   * The patient will note an improved feeling of well-being within the first few days of treatment
>   * In patients with moderate to severe anemia, a modest reticulocytosis will be seen, peaking in approximately 7 to 10 days. Patient with mild anemia may have little to no reticulocytosis
>   * The haemoglobin concentration will rise slowly, usually after 1 to 2 weeks of treatment, at a rate of 2 g/dL over the following 3 weeks. The haemoglobin deficit should be halved by approximately 1 month, and the haemoglobin level should return to normal by 6 to 8 weeks.
> 


**Approaches to lack of response** ▼

> On occasion, a patient’s haemoglobin and iron stores level may not normalise with iron supplementation. There are a number of potential causes for this situation (table 10):
> 
>   * Non-compliance to oral iron (e.g. due to side effects)
>   * Reduced absorption of oral iron
>   * Blood loss exceeds iron intake
> 

> 
> Physiological demand exceeds iron intake (see “High demand individuals: individuals of mixed biology” above)
> 
>   * Some individuals whose anemia does not respond to oral iron due to inflammatory block may benefit from IV iron.
>   * However, if the patient’s response remains suboptimal, one should evaluate for possibilities of mixed biology. Those individuals may benefit from oral blood from a sire. This has been demonstrated in various trials in various populations [148-159].
> 


Seungcheol refuses to drink from him.

The electric blanket is turned up high. He and Seungcheol sit on opposite ends of it, watching the TV but not really watching while Jeonghan locks his phone.

The sun has long risen outside. Jeonghan pushes away all plans of going home before his next shift. In fact, he has pushed them away the moment he saw the iron supplements.

There’s a distinct feeling that if he doesn’t face this right now, it’ll slip away from him forever.

“I was gonna tell you,” Seungcheol begins. He takes in a shallow breath.

Jeonghan looks away from the TV. To his left, Seungcheol looks cautious, for the lack of a better word, like Jeonghan would bolt out right into the sun and let his skin blister to kingdom come.

“I’m not mad,” Jeonghan states in a quiet voice.

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” Seungcheol continues, eyes on the soft fabric of the blanket that covers the heating coils. “You already bring me food, and visit me, and—I don’t want you to feel like it’s your responsibility.”

“But it is,” Jeonghan says.

“It’s not,” Seungcheol says. “I’m my own person. I’m responsible for myself, Jeonghan.”

This is an argument he’s had with himself countless times, and Seungcheol’s point doesn’t hold a candle to the harshness he’s used to.

Jeonghan takes in a deep breath. This is a secret to no one. They both know it, their friends know it; their realities remind them daily of it.

Yet putting it into words feels like the first time he remembers getting hurt: scraping his knee on the pavement outside his kindergarten—the first reference point, the most hellish experience to ever exist to him, at that moment.

“I turned you, Seungcheol,” he says.

He did, and that was only the beginning.

That was also the problem, and the root to many of the problems he has right now.

“You know hyung didn’t mean it like that,” Mingyu says, scooping protein powder into a shake bottle.

Jeonghan’s sitting on a chair that’s just conveniently there amongst the chaos of five werewolves packing for a camping trip during the next full moon.

“How else then?” Jeonghan crosses his arms. Mingyu pouts, so he uncrosses them.

“He doesn’t _not_ want to drink from you. He just doesn’t want to drink from _anyone_.”

“Would he lend you his jacket if he meant it like that?” Minghao supplies. He’s not helping with packing.

Jeonghan states it as it is. “I didn’t have time to go home before my shift, and I was cold.”

“Wait,” Seokmin holds up a hand, joining in without invitation. He stops bang in the middle of the dining room. “By _like that_ , do we mean the good way or the bad way?”

Jeonghan scoffs. “Was there ever a good way?”

“Hyung,” Seokmin says, hurt evident in his eyes like he’s the one they’re talking about.

Packs work in ways Jeonghan can never understand, and maybe every comment towards their pack leader they take as if pointed towards themselves.

“What?”

Seokmin drags a stool over and sits in front of him. He grips Jeonghan’s shoulders and looks into his eyes.

“Hyung,” he begins, holding eye contact. “I’m about to tell you something very, very important.”

“What’s so important?” Jeonghan squirms. He’s beginning to get uncomfortable, so he deflects with a wicked smile. “Do you like me or something, Seokmin-ah?”

“You know what being bitten means to us, right?” Seokmin charges right on, like the master of dodge ball he is. Or frisbee. “Or biting someone.”

Jeonghan feels his skin flush. If he had a functional heart, it’d be racing right now.

“Of course I do,” he manages.

Seokmin still does not give up. “When two werewolves love each other very much, they—”

“I know what happens,” Jeonghan cuts him off. “It’s purely functional for us. We bite for the blood.”

“I understand. But think about it, though.” Seokmin perseveres. “Cheollie-hyung hadn’t been a vampire since the very beginning. You may see it as purely functional because it’s never been anything else for you, but _mmph—_ ”

A hand grabs Seokmin by the face and effectively ends the conversation.

Jeonghan looks up and sees Jihoon trapping Seokmin in a headlock. With a bit more force, Seokmin’s skull might split open like a coconut.

“You talk an awful lot for someone who hasn’t finished packing,” Jihoon warns, arms bulging around Seokmin’s alarmingly red face.

Later, he leaves the pack’s den with Minghao. They walk back to their apartment under the waxing crescent of the moon, sharp like a claw in the sky.

“There isn’t much time left,” Minghao says, looking up.

“I know,” Jeonghan says.

There isn’t much time left before the next full moon.

Iron supplements can only help with so much. Every shift awakens the biology for werewolves to shift. It’s a high metabolic demand, something that uses up too much energy and storage in Seungcheol’s body.

Which is why he looks worse and worse as more lunar cycles pass by.

Before they go up to their apartment shared with Junhui, Jeonghan stops Minghao at the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you regret it?” He asks Minghao.

It used to be only him, Minghao, and Wonwoo, and their fridgeful of blood bags.

He knew Junhui through Minghao’s childhood photos—a boy who used to be able to go out into the sun, who used to eat Sichuan spicy hot pot, who used to fix his hair in front of the mirror.

Minghao hums, like he’s really considering the answer on the spot.

“Have you read Myungshim Bogam?” he says.

“No.” Jeonghan laughs. “I was a STEM student.”

“Me neither, but Wonwoo-hyung has,” Minghao says. For his age, he sure has a lot of wisdom. “He’s really into calligraphy nowadays and kept asking me to check his hanja writing.”

“How was it?”

“I’m not much of a help,” Minghao says. “But he sent me this saying a few weeks ago—” then he enunciates eight syllables, slowly, purposefully.

They’re lost on Jeonghan, though.

“I have no idea what that means,” Jeonghan admits.

“I’ll send you the original text later,” Minghao says. He nods at the stairs, so Jeonghan follows behind him as they go up. “It means, _if only one had known._ ”

They walk to the second floor and stop at their door.

Jeonghan doesn’t know what to say, so Minghao takes pity on him and continues, “But you hadn’t, and neither did he. There’s not much point beating yourselves over it, is there?”

He punches in the passcode and unlocks the door.

“I heard Wonwoo’s into calligraphy nowadays?” Jeonghan says.

“Yeah. The ink _smells_.” Soonyoung wrinkles his nose. He shakes the bottle to make his protein drink. “He also said he’ll make a brush out my hair ‘cause I shed so much.”

“Maybe you should let him snip a few hairs from your tail next time,” Jeonghan suggests.

“I’ll bite his fingers off if he comes near me with a pair of scissors.”

Lightbulb moment. Jeonghan nudges Soonyoung in the shoulder and asks, quietly, because Wonwoo’s in the next room, “Say, have you been bitten before?”

There’s a gurgling sound. Then Soonyoung’s coughing, complete with a red face and watering eyes.

Jeonghan thumps his back out of pity and takes the shake bottle out of his hands. Eventually, the coughing dies down, but Soonyoung stays just as red.

“It’s not—” he gasps “I mean—”

“Ah,” Jeonghan nudges him again, wiggling his eyebrows. “I understand.”

“It's just one of those things on the list,” Soonyoung defends himself.

“I’m not judging or anything,” Jeonghan raises his hands, and raises his eyebrows even more. He had not expected Soonyoung to be so flustered. “So, what’s it feel like?”

“Can’t you just ask someone who you’ve—” Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation halfway through. Yeah, the only time Jeonghan has bitten was to turn someone, which is a different case entirely. “Oh. Yeah. Um.”

Jeonghan feels the air turn heavy, as it always does when they touch on this topic, so he rolls his eyes and goes for the usual. “You’re such a prude, Soonyoung-ah.” He makes to get up with a sigh. “No fun at all.”

“I’m not,” Soonyoung whines. He clings onto Jeonghan’s arm. “Okay, okay.” He looks around and sees the lights down the hall still off, the door to the bedroom closed. “So, it’s kinda like…”

He leans in to whisper into Jeonghan’s ear. For how bashful he’s behaving, Jeonghan’s disappointed with how mild the content is. He had expected something much more exciting.

Soonyoung pulls back when he deems his description sufficient in conveying how earth-shattering it was.

“That’s it?” Jeonghan looks at him. Soonyoung’s face falls, appalled by Jeonghan’s lack of appreciation for his tale of romance.

“Is that not intense enough for your perverted heart?” Soonyoung complains, looking like he could pass out from all the blood rushing to his face.

So Soonyoung’s first person account confirms that being bitten doesn’t guarantee an immediate orgasm, contrary to what the internet tries to suggest.

That staves off most of Jeonghan’s worries.

What’s left to deal with is Seungcheol’s stubbornness and the technicalities of it.

**To: Seungcheol  
**[image attached] <<  
[image attached] <<  
[image attached] <<  
those are anatomically accurate diagrams <<  
internal jugular vein is what you’re aiming for <<

**From: Seungcheol  
**>> why are you sending me those  
>> i’m not going to drink from you

**To: Seungcheol  
**Treatment outcomes of iron deficiency anaemia in…   
www.ncbi.nlm.nih… <<  
blood from the sire is the only evidence based treatment <<

**From: Seungcheol  
**>> i feel better after taking iron supplements, actually

Jeonghan breathes out through his nose and tosses the phone towards his bed.

If Seungcheol wants to be difficult, then Jeonghan doesn’t have to make it easy for him either.

The news that proves that he’s right arrives during his shift handover. He’s explaining some pre-op preparation for the nurse of the next shift when his phone starts to buzz.

**From: Joshua**  
>> call me when you’re off  
>> before you leave the hospital

Jeonghan frowns. He pockets his phone and goes back to his task, moving onto the next patient and updating his colleague about the treatment response.

An hour later, he’s free to leave.

He changes out of his uniform and looks at his phone again. The ominous messages stare back at him in yellow speech bubbles.

He makes the call and begins to pack up, phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder.

_“Hello?”_

“You asked me to call?” Jeonghan says, stuffing his lanyard into his backpack.

_“Yeah. Are you still at the hospital?”_

“I am,” Jeonghan says. He scans around himself for anything he’s forgotten. “Getting ready to leave.”

 _“In that case…”_ Joshua trails off. There’s a rhythmic beeping in the background, not unlike where Jeonghan was busy tending to the last of his shift just hours ago. _“Can you come over to block M? I’m with Seungcheol.”_

Jeonghan has been to block M once, when he had gastroenteritis from drinking expired blood. He stayed for two days.

Visitors normally press the bell outside to be let into the ward. Jeonghan taps his staff card on the sensor and slips in through the slowly opening automatic doors.

He finds Joshua sitting by bed 8, where a drip stand holds a half empty bag of blood.

The IV line disappears under the blanket, connected to Seungcheol _somewhere_. Jeonghan tries not to imagine and stalks closer to the bed.

“The doctor said his haemoglobin’s low,” Joshua begins in a hush, eyes flitting to Seungcheol. He’s asleep.

“I know,” Jeonghan snaps. He bites his lip. It’s none of Joshua’s fault. “Sorry, I’m just… what happened?”

“We were walking back to his apartment, and he said he felt faint,” Joshua says, keeping a calm voice. “Then he became really out of breath. Like very fucking out of breath. So we took him here, and the doctor said he needed a transfusion because his haemoglobin was 4 or something.”

“How many units did he have?”

“This is his second bag of blood,” Joshua says. “And the doctor wants to talk to you.”

What the doctor tells him is nothing new—that Seungcheol’s anaemic, that iron supplements are not good enough, that he needs to drink from his sire to survive—and, “Oh, are you his sire?”

Seungcheol’s awake about three minutes into the discussion, because Joshua keeps looking towards the bed, ears twitching.

Then the doctor leaves, and Joshua conveniently takes the cue to buy coffee.

Jeonghan sits down on the chair pointed diagonally towards the bed. He watches the lines on the monitor: no pulse, no blood pressure.

“You can stop pretending,” Jeonghan says, looking straight ahead.

The blankets rustle. Seungcheol’s voice comes next. “I’m not.”

Jeonghan decides to ignore that. “You heard what the doctor said.”

Seungcheol says nothing in response.

The silence between them is punctuated by sounds from the television, of the weather report the next few days.

They predict cloudiness. They predict a drizzle. They predict sunshine.

“I’ll do it,” Seungcheol says. “Only if you’re willing to let me.”

It takes ten seconds before his pettiness overcomes him.

“I’ve been asking you to since the beginning,” he says. Seungcheol’s eyes go wide, and he feels the need to dig his claws deeper. “Good to know you’d listen to anyone but me.”

“I don’t mean it that way,” Seungcheol says, attempting to sit up with great effort. “Jeonghan, I—”

Regret is always belated. Jeonghan wants to swallow back his words, defunct as rusty nails.

But what’s out in the open can’t be retracted. He can only stop Seungcheol with a hand on his shoulder.

“Lie still,” Jeonghan says. Seungcheol’s still looking up at him, short of breath, like he wants to explain. “The full moon’s in nine days.”

What matters right now is not the reason for how they arrived at this point. It’s an unchangeable fact that Jeonghan fucked it up for good, and whatever self sabotaging can never remedy that.

The least he can do is to solve the problems he’s brought into Seungcheol’s life, one by one.

And when they’re all done with, smoothed out, he’ll fuck off for good.

Seungcheol’s discharged with a pamphlet on how to feed for newly turned vampires. It’s as informative as it gets, complete with anatomical diagrams and a comic that details consent taking. There’s also a companion booklet for the one being fed on, filled with pages of blood donation questionnaires that they go through together on Jeonghan’s lunch breaks.

It’s thorough. Jeonghan soldiers through the part about unsafe sex despite embarrassment. The conclusion is as expected: he’s eligible for giving blood.

They decide on a day like any other doctor appointment. It is, afterall, a medical necessity.

After his last shift for the week on a Saturday, Jeonghan arrives at Seungcheol’s doorstep with an overnight bag.

Should anything happen, he has one day to recover. Should he fail to recover, he’ll have enough time ask for a sick leave and find someone to cover his shift.

It’s been a while since he last stayed over like this: planned, with precontemplation. (It has been a lifetime ago for Seungcheol.) His feet feel foreign on the doormat, like he truly needs the welcome his kind requires before entering.

“Hi,” Seungcheol says upon opening the door. He pulls it open wider, letting more sun into his apartment. “Come on in.”

Only then does he walk in, toeing off his sneakers by the shoe shelf.

The electric blanket is on, laid out on the sofa. Seungcheol sits at one end of it.

“I drank three bags of blood already,” Seungcheol begins. He looks no better than when he was admitted, still pale and lifeless in the most basic sense. “So that I won’t accidentally drink too much.” When Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, he supplies, “According to what the pamphlet said.”

Jeonghan stares at the sofa, which is where they’ll do the drinking and being drunk.

“Can I use your shower?” He says. “I wanna wash the hospital off me.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Seungcheol stands up and leads him to the bathroom. “Um, you can leave your bag in my room. I’m not sure if I have anything you’ll need—”

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

Seungcheol looks appalled. His ears twitch.

“No,” he says. He wipes that look off his face in less than a second. “I can borrow one from my neighbour. I know for sure he has one.”

Jeonghan’s mouth twitches. “Too loud?”

“Definitely.”

Hopefully, this will only happen once. Jeonghan will have no business blasting a hair dryer in Seungcheol’s vicinity after today.

He doesn’t mention that, but opts for getting a change of clothes ready.

Seungcheol shows him how the shower works and which bottle is the scentless shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Jeonghan has brought his own toiletries, but he has _also_ heard Mingyu complaining about common scented products being an assault on his nose, so he decides, if it’s only gonna happen once, he might as well do it right and get over with it with the least amount of trouble possible.

He scrubs himself clean and washes his hair, watching the drain bring away the layer of hospital on him. He stands some more under the steaming spray of water, touching his neck, mentally preparing himself for Seungcheol to bite him on the left or the right. He ruminates on what Soonyoung’s told him about being bitten, less alarming than online anecdotes but still makes him wonder.

He has done enough thinking in the few days leading up to this, those thoughts no longer induce a gut churning panic in him.

He cuts off the water and resolutely steps out.

The hair dryer is on the floor outside the bathroom, waiting for him quietly like a weapon to be wielded. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. His bedroom door is tightly shut. Jeonghan laughs to himself and picks it up, plugging it into the socket above the sink, and begins drying his hair.

He doesn’t bother with tying it up afterwards. He doesn’t bother with anything before he steps out, because none of it matters after today. He coils the cords neatly and places the dormant hair dryer on the coffee table.

Seungcheol comes out of his room.

They sit on opposite ends of the electric blanket. Jeonghan feels the turning of his stomach. The immediate prospect of what is about to happen sends roiling waves of dread through his static vessels.

“Let’s go through the steps again,” says Jeonghan, forcing his voice steady.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol agrees. He lays out the pamphlet on the table top. “So, I feel for your carotid pulse first, and slightly to the outside of it should be the internal jugular vein.”

“I don’t have a carotid pulse.” Jeonghan says. “Are you gonna bite the left or the right?”

“Um,” Seungcheol looks at him. He tilts his head and leans close, then backs away, rehearsing his steps. “I think the left. Your left.”

“Okay, so further to your right should be the internal jugular.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says. He frowns and bites his lips, seemingly deep in thought. “Right. So after I feel for your _left_ carotid artery, I go further to _my_ right and feel for the internal jugular.”

“Yes.”

“And then I bite, and drink, and press on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says. He reads off the page. “That’s what it says.”

The pamphlet makes it sound easy. Step 1, position yourselves comfortably in a safe environment. Step 2, locate the internal jugular vein. Step 3, puncture the vein with fangs. Step 4, apply suction to the puncture site to draw blood. Step 5, apply pressure to the wound for at least 15 minutes.

The storm he’s cooked up in his chest is so pathetically unnecessary in comparison.

Jeonghan disrupts the silence. He assumes his work voice. “Should we start?”

Seungcheol seems surprised. “If you’re ready.”

He says, “I’m ready.” What he doesn’t say, _let’s get this over with._

He leans back against the cushions, staring straight ahead at the TV. It’s off, and the matte black screen reflects them blurry, two shadows approaching each other.

Seungcheol shifts closer until he’s a handbreadth away.

“I think, uh, you should turn towards me,” Seungcheol says.

Jeonghan blinks once at their reflection. Slowly, he turns, resting his side against the back of the sofa.

He comes face to face with Seungcheol, so he looks away.

“Like this?” He asks.

“Yeah,” he says with a swallow. He inches closer. “This should work.”

Jeonghan stares at the wall behind Seungcheol, the blackout curtains, the cord of the electric blanket. When Seungcheol lifts his hand to brush back the hair from Jeonghan’s shoulder, Jeonghan closes his eyes and forces out a breath.

This is purely functional. This is a medical necessity. This is his responsibility.

He reminds himself of those things as he tilts his head, baring his neck, anticipating the inevitable sting as Seungcheol’s breath grazes his skin.

“So,” Seungcheol says, words tickling the side of his neck. “Here is where I bite, right?”

Jeonghan keeps his eyes shut. He should’ve expected this to happen.

“I’m as clueless as you are,” Jeonghan says, quietly, keeping his head still. “Everything I know comes from movies. Haven’t you bitten someone before?”

“No, I haven’t. And it has to be the internal jugular vein, right?” Seungcheol asks, somewhat panicked. “ _You’re_ supposed to be the nurse here.”

“Just do it,” Jeonghan demands. He feels tired. “We’ll do it again if you miss.”

He doesn’t push beyond that. He breathes in slow and purposefully, waiting. It’s another five breaths before he feels a hand cupping his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol murmurs. He seems to keep on getting closer, but never arriving. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan says.

And he means it beyond mere politeness. It’s nothing compared to what Seungcheol endured.

He repeats that thought when two points of sharpness sink into his neck, a singular source of burning in his otherwise cold body.

He jolts once, unable to keep the instinctual flinch from pain. Seungcheol hesitates, and Jeonghan grabs the back of his head before he manages to pull away, before he ends up putting this all to waste.

“Keep going,” he grits through the burning on his neck. He looks at the blackout curtains, the electric blanket, and the bin with empty blood bags. He reminds himself this is all his doing, and somehow it makes the pain less significant. “Keep going.”

He hears a confirmatory loud gulp near his ear. Then another, and another.

With each mouthful of blood, Seungcheol presses closer, holding Jeonghan still so he could work his mouth against the slope of Jeonghan’s neck.

In another reality, one where Jeonghan weren’t so naïve, perhaps he wouldn’t have climbed onto a rock with Seungcheol. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so affected by Seungcheol’s wide eyes at the moon as they stared up from one of the highest points at the edge of Seoul, where it was least affected by light pollution.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have fallen, physically and metaphorically; perhaps Seungcheol wouldn’t have to shield him from the fall that he was meant to take, lose blood in his stead; perhaps Jeonghan wouldn’t have bitten, for the first time in his life, and swallowed down what little had remained of Seungcheol’s blood in his body, trying not to taste through his selfishness to keep good things by his side.

Perhaps, when Seungcheol pulls back now, he wouldn’t have the urge to wipe the worried expression off his face.

But since he is naïve, has always been, he reaches out with shaking fingers towards Seungcheol’s mouth. A smear of red paints across his lips, like a skidmark that precedes a crash. He tries to wipe it away, only to end up spreading it across Seungcheol’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says. He feels faint, feels like crying, feels like dying even when he has no life force to begin with.

What he doesn’t feel is that he could fuck off as planned.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol mutters, catching Jeonghan’s wrist, the hand that furiously drags through his own blood.

That’s the last thing Jeonghan sees. His head lolls back.

_So, it’s kinda like… being kissed in the neck, but slightly more painful? Ah, hyung, don’t laugh! This is so embarrassing. I’m only telling you this because it’s you._

_It feels like being tipsy, like the world sways a bit and you feel all warm and safe. Wonwoo told me it’s something to do with the endorphins, I think, and—oxytonin? Or is it oxytocin?_

_Anyway, it makes me wanna be the little spoon like,_ woah _. I’m usually the big spoon—what’s all this muscle for if not for hugging, right? I don’t wake up 5am every day for nothing—but apparently being bitten makes me a slut for being spooned._

_Not that I’m unhappy about it! It makes me feel like… nothing in the world could harm me. Protected. I just like to be the spooner more than being a spoonee, you know? Those are exceptions._

_I’d give him all my blood if I could. Seriously. I’m drinking two litres every day, and I pee like insane._

Jeonghan wakes up warm in a strange bed.

There’s an electric blanket under his body, and a thick winter duvet over him. The lamp casts a soft yellow glow over the bedside table, the glass of water on it, his charging phone, and Seungcheol sitting on a chair beside him.

He blinks a few times, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes head on. There’s colour back on his face, and for a split second it nearly tricked Jeonghan into believing he travelled back in time, to when Seungcheol was simply a werewolf and he a vampire.

Neither of them speak for a while.

“You look better,” Jeonghan croakes out at last. He pushes away the duvet to sit up.

Seungcheol rushes to help him, which is unnecessary. He sits back down when Jeonghan proves to have no problem with moving around.

“I _am_ better,” Seungcheol says with a small smile. It dissolves into a frown when he continues, “Sorry for… I had no idea how much to drink, or how to control it. Sorry.”

What Minghao told him floats up from the recesses of his mind—neither of them had known better. True or not, Jeonghan can’t find it in himself to blame Seungcheol.

And Seungcheol, despite changed in so many ways, did not change in his core. Worrying too much, about his pack, about inconveniencing others, never about himself.

That’s why someone like Jeonghan shouldn’t stay by his side. He’ll take advantage of his good intentions eventually.

“I’ll do anything for you,” Jeonghan says.

Seungcheol blinks. His fingers twitch. “You don’t mean that.”

“I turned you,” Jeonghan has to remind him. It’s like Seungcheol chooses to forget this detail every time they meet. “I turned you, without knowing if you wanted it or not.”

“In my defense, I was bleeding out,” Seungcheol says back. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands, fingers locked tight together.

Jeonghan has never seen Seungcheol shift before. It’s for his own benefit, really. God knows how unhinged his daydreams can get.

But nothing more than moments like this reminds him of the difference between them—that Seungcheol, at his full health, can run at a speed Jeonghan could never; will take a form like Soonyoung’s, unrestrained and free under the moonlight; has belonged, and will continue belonging to a pack he chose.

Jeonghan was the one who took those away—not completely, but it’s as bad as taking the flavour out of food. It makes being alive difficult.

Seungcheol sighs at the lack of response. “Jeonghan.” He looks up from his hands. “I’d choose that all over again if I had to.”

“No you fucking don’t,” Jeonghan grits out.

“Don’t tell me what to think,” Seungcheol says. He looks down at his hand again. Not angry, it seems, just resigned. “You had no idea what biting me meant.”

His mouth goes dry. If only he had known—but he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” Seungcheol mumbles. He rubs his face with both hands and keeps his fingers pressed to his eyes. He blows out a hefty sigh and begins, “You saved me, is what it is. I know I’m twisting your gesture into this weird thing that fits my narrative. I promise I’ll try remedy that. Or if you feel uncomfortable with being around me, then—we can find a way and work something out so you don’t have to bring me food—”

“I don’t feel uncomfortable,” Jeonghan blurts.

Seungcheol mentioned a narrative. Jeonghan wonders what it is. What it foretells, what it takes from the things that transpired between them; whether if it’s as tinted as his own.

“You don’t have to let me down easy.”

“I’m not.” Jeonghan swallows around the lump in his throat.

Seungcheol raises his head. It gets more and more stifling, the longer Seungcheol stares at him. He has to get this out.

There’s a chance they won’t ever meet again after this, anyway.

“Before that happened,” Jeonghan looks down, at his hand gripping the blanket. “When we went to the mountains, I had been wanting to…”

The sentence dies on his tongue.

Now he has fixed the last of Seungcheol’s problems and can free him for good, what use is there in saying all of this?

He has been a selfish bloodsucker through and through—back then, right now. Nothing has changed.

“What?” Seungcheol asks. A desperate edge finds his voice. “You had been wanting to what?”

Again, there’s a chance that they won’t meet, not ever again, and Jeonghan has never been one for amicable goodbyes.

“Soonyoung and Wonwoo,” he states simply. He watches confusion wash over Seungcheol’s face. And yeah, what else did he expect—only a selfish fucker like him would think about things like this. He offers a sad smile before continuing, “They seem to work, right?”

An understanding sinks, slowly, like a stone onto a seabed. Seungcheol’s eyes widen.

Jeonghan waits for it. Maybe he’ll be kicked out of the apartment—or worse, the group chat. Maybe he’ll be blocked on SNS by all their friends. Maybe Minghao and Jun won’t renew the lease with him.

Now, it’s set in stone.

“Me?” Seungcheol whispers. He points at himself, where his heart used to beat. “You’re—me?”

“Yes.” Jeonghan smiles, mirthless. “You.”

 _Who else,_ he wants to say.

Who else would be so guileless and blind to Jeonghan’s selfishness? Who else would be so selfless, only to lose their life and be given one they didn’t ask for?

Who else.

“Do you mean it?” Seungcheol asks.

“Would someone lie about things like this?” Jeonghan sneers.

Nobody would lie to make themselves look ugly.

But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to get the memo. He gets up from the chair and slowly, carefully sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Please tell me,” Seungcheol says. “If I make you uncomfortable.”

Jeonghan wants to laugh. Right until the end, Seungcheol’s still worried about him.

The mattress creaks under the shift of weight. Seungcheol angles closer, a hand on the bed to keep himself balanced.

The blood on his mouth has long since been wiped clean. Still, Jeonghan feels like he’s watching a crash scene about to happen.

He leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> the saying minghao refers to is:
>
>> 早  
>  이를 조
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 知  
>  알 지
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 今  
>  이제 금
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 日  
>  날 일  
>>   
>> ---|---|---|---  
>>   
>> 悔  
>  뉘우칠 회
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 不  
>  아닐 부
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 當  
>  마땅 당
>> 
>> | 
>> 
>> 初  
>  처음 초  
>   
> _lit. if only one had known, they would not have acted the way they did._  
>  —[명심보감 (明心寶鑑)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mingxin_baojian), 存心篇 (존심편)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovkerick)


End file.
